


Before you lose your way back home

by tictactoews



Series: Figure Skating AU [2]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Daddy Issues, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Ice Skating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-08 02:50:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tictactoews/pseuds/tictactoews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I’ve received requests for a sequel to <i>Love’s so cold (when your hands don’t dance)</i>, so here it is – set two years after the previous story. I recommend reading that first, otherwise this won’t make much sense.<br/>So far I tried to keep the story more or less detached from the real skating world, but for the sake of the plot and not making my brain explode – the year is 2014, and the Olympic games are held in Sochi. </p><p>Title from U2’s “Trying To Throw Your Arms Around the World”</p><p>Thank you all for reading! Feedback is love, it feeds the muse.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve received requests for a sequel to _Love’s so cold (when your hands don’t dance)_ , so here it is – set two years after the previous story. I recommend reading that first, otherwise this won’t make much sense.  
> So far I tried to keep the story more or less detached from the real skating world, but for the sake of the plot and not making my brain explode – the year is 2014, and the Olympic games are held in Sochi. 
> 
> Title from U2’s “Trying To Throw Your Arms Around the World”
> 
> Thank you all for reading! Feedback is love, it feeds the muse.

“Tell me again why isn’t your family coming?”

The plane to Sochi is gliding smoothly through the air. The rest of team USA is fast asleep in their seats – or, in several cases, on each other – and Tony could easily pretend that he didn’t hear Steve’s question, whispered to not disturb the relative silence of the flight.

Too bad Steve knows Tony can never sleep on planes.

Reluctantly, Tony opens one eye and looks at Steve’s concerned face. “That would be because I didn’t invite them,” he whispers back. “Besides, it’s not like daddy dearest could leave his skating school unattended.” Tony closes his eye back, hoping that Steve will let it go. It’s not like he’s unfamiliar with Tony’s situation, so Tony doesn’t understand where it all of a sudden comes from. 

He can _feel_ Steve’s disapproving look, which, how is that even possible. Tony opens both eyes this time and hauls himself up, sitting face-to-face with Steve. “Look, I saw them on Thanksgiving, we’re all good for a while now.”

“You didn’t even go home for Christmas.”

“I stayed with you! I didn’t hear any complaints then. And you know I had to train harder before Nationals to even be here now, it’s not like I had time for family reunions.”

“I’m not complaining, I just… don’t understand. Okay, I get the holidays, fine. But this – Tony, this is the Olympics, this is your dream, possibly the single most important moment of your career. Don’t you want your parents to witness it?”

“Do I want to see my father’s disappointed face when I don’t win the gold? No, I don’t. And they know where the Olympics are, they can easily come if they want to. Now, will you please let it go?”

Steve huffs with exasperation. “Fine,” he says in a tone that tells Tony how much Steve is not done with him yet. He doesn’t say anything else, though.

The silence and the tense lines of Steve’s body elicit a pang of guilt in Tony. He leans closer, slumps against Steve’s side and presses his face to his shoulder in a wordless apology. Steve doesn’t move for a while and Tony contemplates resorting to nuzzling, but then Steve sighs, relaxes, and wraps an arm around Tony.

Tony closes his eyes and smiles when he feels Steve press a kiss to the top of his head. He still can’t sleep, but this seems like a nice way to spend the rest of the flight.

**

By the time they are finally settled in the Olympic village it’s still early in the evening, so those of the athletes that aren’t that much exhausted after the journey decide to go out and explore. 

Tony, however, has different orders. After dinner, he comes straight to the room he and Steve are sharing and plops down on his bed, face down.

“So I take it we’re not going sightseeing?” Steve says with amusement, sitting down on his own bed.

“Nu-uh,” Tony mutters into the pillow, then turns his head so he can look at Steve. “Fury told me to get some sleep, since I was the only one who didn’t sleep on the plane. And I’m actually exhausted so for once I intend to listen. You can go, if you want, no need to sit here.”

“Nah, I didn’t sleep either.”

“How is that possible? You didn’t move a muscle. I should know, I was draped over you.”

“What can I say, you were comfortable,” Steve grins.

Tony smiles back, then rolls off the bed and stands up. “I’m going to take a shower. Wanna share?”

Steve shakes his head. “Bad idea. We’re under sex ban till the competitions are over,” he reminds Tony. Right, he forgot. This entire trip feels too much like a holiday so far. Maybe when Tony is less sleep deprived he’ll be able to stress out in a normal, healthy way again. 

“Right, okay, I’ll be right back, then.”

Tony takes his time in the shower, washing away long hours of the flight and letting the hot water beat the tension out of his muscles. He briefly contemplates jerking off, but then thinks better of it – Fury has a point, and Tony really wants a medal. If nothing else – just to piss off his father.

Steve wasn’t wrong. Tony did want his father to witness his potential success. His father at twenty-four already had two Olympic medals, both gold, and all Tony has to show for his career are two national titles and a couple of World medals. Which is good, but not… Stark-good. Tony sees the frown every time he visits his father, and he just _knows_ it’s disappointment. And regret. Maybe if he had another child – a more talented, successful one – Howard would be happier, and Tony wouldn’t be under so much pressure. 

Granted, the pressure may have been mostly self-inflicted lately. But the way Tony sees it – silence does not mean approval, it means lowering of expectations. And Tony will be damned if he settles for less than the absolute best he can do. The problem is, his best might not be enough.

Guess he will just have to wait and see.

Tony turns off the water and steps out of the shower. He dries himself off with a huge, fluffy towel, pulls on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, and brushes his teeth.

When he comes out of the bathroom, Steve is in Tony's bed, half-asleep and snuggled up in the blankets.

“Shouldn’t we be avoiding this?” Tony asks, raising his eyebrows. Steve gives him a sleepy smile and it takes all of Tony’s self control not to jump him then and there.

“We’re not animals, Tony, we can restrain ourselves. And if you think I can sleep in a separate bed when you’re in the same room, you’re very much mistaken. Now get in here.”

Tony doesn’t argue any more, just slides under the covers and lets himself be wrapped up in Steve’s strong arms.

“Mmm, this is nice,” Steve murmurs into Tony’s hair, still damp from the shower. “You were in there a long time,” he observes, carding his fingers through Tony’s hair.

“I wasn’t… I was just thinking.” Tony explains quietly, leaning into Steve’s touch. He was right, it is nice, even if it can’t lead to anything more.

“About what?”

“My father, and—what you said on the plane. About them being here.”

“And?” Steve inquires softly. 

“I don’t know, I—sort of want them here. My mom especially. But if that means I have to see yet another Howard Stark trademark disappointed look, then I’ll pass.”

“Tony,” Steve sighs. “You’re doing it again. We’ve been over this. Why do you always assume you’ll do badly?”

“My track record isn’t exactly spectacular.”

“But you have it in you.”

“Not enough.”

“Want to bet on it?”

Tony sits up and looks at Steve, incredulous. “What?”

Steve looks determined, his eyebrows raised slightly. “I’ll make you a bet. I say you will win the gold medal.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll make you breakfast in bed for three months.”

“And if I do?”

“Your call.”

Tony doesn’t think Steve realizes just how absurd this whole thing is. Steve is his competitor, how can he be betting against himself? They both would kill for the gold – this kind of opportunity only presents itself only once or twice during a skater's career. Three times if you’re very, very lucky. There is no way Steve actually wants to lose. Neither does Tony, but well, he’s being realistic.

Steve, on the other hand, is being ridiculous. Tony has to show him how much so.

“Okay, big guy. Wager me this: if I win the gold, we get married.”

Steve blinks at him for a minute, and Tony’s heart starts to race with a terrible feeling that he screwed something up again.

But then Steve smirks and says, “You’re on.”

Tony exhales in relief and settles back into Steve’s embrace. Clearly, Steve took it for what it was – something that can never actually happen. Tony will ponder the implications of Steve believing in him exactly as little as Tony believes in himself in the morning, after sleep and coffee.

“That was the weirdest proposal ever,” Tony hears before he falls asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

“Come on, Tony, up you get!” Steve says, grinning down at him and extending a hand to help Tony get up from the ice.

“I don’t see what’s so funny, Rogers,” Tony says begrudgingly, accepting Steve’s hand reluctantly, and lets himself be pulled back to his feet. “If I repeat that in competition, you’ll lose the bet.”

“Oh please, it’s not like you fell on a quad.”

“Unfortunately. That would be less embarrassing than stumbling over my own blade.”

“Toe pick!” Steve shouts happily. Tony can’t help but let out a smile.

“You couldn’t resist this one, could you?”

“Nope,” Steve grins. “And as for the bet, I win either way,” he adds, accelerating away and skating over to the opposite side of the practice rink.

“You’re not as subtle as you think,” says a calm voice behind him, and Tony spins around just to see Thor Odinson’s brother standing next to him and presenting his trademark smirk that Tony suspects is permanently attached to his face.

“Who says we’re trying to be subtle, Laufeyson?” Tony dismisses him, and starts skating around the rink. It’s another skater’s turn to practice with his music, but it doesn’t mean that Tony can’t make as much of the rink time as possible.

Loki follows him. Tony finds it extremely unnerving. “How is that any of your business, anyway?” he snaps, turning to skate backwards so he can face Loki. 

Loki smirks again. “Oh, very much so. I must admit you and Rogers have owned this season so far, sharing the titles more or less evenly. Nationals for you, Worlds for him, almost a draw in the Grand Prix Final. Impressive, and fair. But the Olympics are different, aren’t they?”

“I suppose they are. Still having trouble seeing your business. Not that I’d want to, Steve gets jealous.”

Loki scoffs. “My point is, all I have to do is wait till both of you accidentally on purpose screw up to let the other one win, and then the gold is mine. So really, thank you for fraternizing with yours and everybody else’s greatest competitor. All of us on the podium will be eternally grateful,” Loki sums up, and skates away to claim his turn for a practice with music.

“All I heard was you admitting we were better than you! And you’re damn right!” Tony calls after him, but is not sure if Loki can hear him. 

Tony manages to push that conversation to the back of his mind for the rest of the practice, and does a pretty clean run-through of his short program. It’s later, in the locker room, when Loki’s words start repeating themselves on the loop in Tony’s head.

 _Screw up to let the other one win_ … Steve wouldn’t, would he?

Tony has been treating the bet less than seriously so far, like a private game between him and Steve, an added bonus to whatever the result of the competition is. And frankly, Tony can realistically only see one possible outcome. That is, if Steve doesn’t act like an idiot and sacrifice himself for Tony’s hypothetical happiness.

“Hey, ready to go?” The subject of Tony’s thoughts comes up to him and puts a hand on his shoulders.

“Yeah, a second,” Tony replies, then stuffs his practice clothes in his duffel bag and zips it up. “Let’s go.”

**

“Something on your mind?” Steve asks him half an hour later over lunch. “I mean, apart from the fact that we‘re competing tomorrow.”

Tony pokes at a piece tomato on his plate thoughtfully. He has to say it, there’s no other way. Maybe Loki was wrong, but Tony is not willing to risk it. “Yes, actually,” he says, looking up at Steve, whose expression goes serious in an instant.

“Are you okay, Tony? You didn’t injure yourself, did you?”

Tony waves his hand dismissively. “No, not that. I’m fine. It’s just… about the bet. You have to promise me something.”

“Okay?” Steve says, tipping his head to the side to listen.

Tony takes a deep breath.“Promise me you won’t screw up on purpose to let me win the gold.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up so high they almost disappear in his hairline. “Tony, I think you seriously overestimate my ability to be selfless. I—don’t get me wrong, if you win the gold, I’ll be ridiculously happy. But this is the Olympics, and newsflash - I want the gold, too. And besides, you _know_ I could never cheat. So, if either of us wins, it will be fair and square. Okay?” 

Tony feels so very stupid that he doubted Steve even for a moment. Of course, this guy has a set of ethics made of iron, and he wouldn’t bend it even to accommodate Tony’s dreams. He exhales with relief and smiles at Steve brightly.

“Good, that’s… good. Sorry, I just… Loki Laufeyson messed with my head today and I started thinking if our bet was a good idea after all.”

Steve frowns. “You know we can still call it off, right? We don’t have to--”

“No, no,” Tony interrupts him. “I want to go through with it. Although if I could maybe trade those breakfasts in bed for morning blowjobs…” 

Steve flicks an olive right at Tony’s forehead.

**

Tony happily continues not to worry about the bet for the next few days, especially when he places second behind Steve after the first day of competition.

But then Steve pops a triple axel in his long program, and while he had enough advantage to keep him on the podium, Tony finds himself with a gold Olympic medal around his neck and a wide, albeit slightly dazed smile on his face. 

Steve hugs him tightly on the podium, tears of happiness in his blue eyes. “I’m so proud of you. I love you,” he whispers right into Tony’s ear, and Tony squeezes him back as hard as he can without dropping his flowers. He can’t quite speak yet, but Steve doesn’t seem to mind.

**

Tony goes through the rest of the day in a haze, trying to be as charming to the press as ever, taking countless pictures with Steve and the silver medalist. (To his endless satisfaction, Loki has ended up fourth.)

After dinner, Tony dreams of nothing else but a hot shower and a good, long sleep. Steve, however, has different plans.

“Take a walk with me,” he says, taking Tony’s hand in his and squeezing it just a little bit too hard. He looks vaguely nervous, and Tony doesn’t like it at all.

He almost forgot about the bet till now. He never expected to win – or lose, depends how you look at it – but how that he has, he’s not going to hold Steve to the wager. But it doesn’t mean he wants to hear Steve gently let Tony down, tell him that no, nope, it was fun, but no marriage in this lifetime, it’s enough that Steve lost his gold, he doesn’t need to suffer any further. Tony needs to tell him first that the bet changes nothing.

A building full of already half-drunk figure skaters may not be the best place to do it, though, so he allows Steve to guide him outside and starts walking with him, hand in hand, around the Olympic village. 

“Look, Steve, about the bet--” he begins, stopping an turning to face Steve when they reach a secluded enough place.

“No, shut up,” Steve interrupts him, looking even more nervous. “You had your shot at this, I’m talking now.”

“What?” Tony asks, confused.

Steve lets out a nervous laugh and looks up at the starry sky, like he’s trying to gather up the courage to say something. Tony doesn’t want to hear that something. He wants to just forget the bet ever happened and go back to the way they were before. 

But then Steve is suddenly down on one knee, both of Tony’s hands clutched in his. “Anthony Stark,” he starts, voice shaking, a tiny, nervous smile on his lips. “Will you marry me?”

Tony blink a few times, and it takes him an embarrassingly long time to locate a tongue in his mouth and remember how to use words. “You—are you _proposing_ to me?”

Steve’s smile gets wider. “Well, you did a shitty job of it the first time around, I just thought one of us should do this properly,” Steve explains, grinning. “Now would you please answer me? I’m kneeling on snow here.”

“Oh,” Tony says, and then bursts out laughing. “Yes, of course it’s a yes, you idiot, get up here,” he says, and pulls Steve up by the hands only to wrap his arms around his neck and kiss the living daylights out of him.

They kiss for a long time, ignoring the freezing cold wind. Hell, Tony would probably ignore a meteor crash if one were to occur just then. 

Finally, they break apart, but Tony finds himself reluctant to let go of Steve, so they stay that way, wrapped up in each other, smiling widely.

“I thought you were going to break up with me,” Tony says softly, and it prompts Steve to kiss him deeply once again.

“Never,” Steve whispers against Tony’s lips. “You’re stuck with me forever. Which reminds me,” Steve says and lets go of Tony to pull a small, black, velvet box from the pocket of his jacket.

Inside are two matching, simple gold bands. 

“You bought engagement rings,” Tony observes. “You didn’t even know I’d win until this afternoon, and you were with me the whole time. There’s no way you had time to--”

“I bought them five days ago,” Steve says. “I told you I believed in you,” he adds, and all Tony can do is lunge forward and kiss him again.

Steve breaks the kiss to take one of the rings out of the box and place it slowly on Tony’s hand. Tony looks at the ring catch the yellowish glow of the lamps, and feels claimed, feels _Steve’s_ , and it’s the best feeling he’s ever had. He takes the other ring and puts it on Steve’s finger, reverently.

He feels the urge to kiss the gold band on Steve’s hand, and gives in.

“You know,” he says, looking up at Steve and squeezing his hand. “This is the best moment of this day.”

“Tony, you won Olympic gold six hours ago.”

Tony tangles their fingers together. “I know.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise there will be plot in the next chapters.  
> Please note the change in rating for this one.

They’ve been together for over two years, but when Steve drags Tony back inside the building and into their room, it feels like their first time all over again. Every touch feels new and exhilarating, making Tony think “that’s my _fiancé_ ”, and the exciting permanence of that thought sends shivers down his spine.

He cannot keep himself from touching Steve, grabbing frantically at his clothes and any part of his body he can reach, but Steve seems to have different plans. He puts his hands on Tony’s arms and slows down the kiss until it’s just a soft, sweet press of lips.

“We have the whole night,” he says, smiling warmly.

“Then we can have sex twice. Come on, Steve, we’ve waited long enough.”

“Don’t be so impatient,” Steve says between kisses he’s trailing along the line of Tony’s jaw and down his neck. “This is special. Please, just…” Steve kisses him on the lips again, snaking his hands under Tony’s shirt and running them over his sides. 

Tony shivers, and his resolve crumbles. “Okay, okay, whatever you want,” he gasps into Steve’s mouth. 

Steve just smiles and deepens the kiss, tugging at Tony’s shirt and Tony complies, breaking the kiss for long enough to pull the shirt off. “You, too,” Tony insists, and Steve obliges, taking off his shirt and jeans and tossing them into the corner of the room.

Tony will never get tired of this sight. Having amazing abs is written into a figure skater’s job description, but Steve exceeds all expectations in that matter. Tony runs his hands over Steve’s chest and stomach appreciatively while Steve looks at him with an amused glint in his eyes.

Tony maneuvers Steve towards the bed and pushes gently at his chest until Steve takes the hint and moves to lie down on his back, looking at Tony expectantly. Tony wastes no time, shedding his jeans and underwear and climbing onto the bed to kneel between Steve’s legs.

“What do you want?” Tony asks. Steve said this was special, so maybe he has some particular plans for them, and Tony is more than willing to indulge. But Steve just shakes his head.

“I don’t mind. Whatever you want. Anything,” he replies, and Tony smirks. 

“As you wish,” he says. Whatever he wants, huh? Well, right now Steve is spread out in front of him, looking like a wet dream come true, and Tony is in the perfect position to yank down Steve’s boxers, lean down, and take Steve’s already hard cock in his mouth.

Steve takes in a sharp breath and Tony hums appreciatively, eliciting another gasp from Steve when his throat vibrates around his dick. Tony takes his time, teasing, licking and sucking, until he feels Steve’s body tremble in a familiar way, warning him that Steve is close. Tony doesn’t want it to be over yet, so he pulls off, sits up, and feels a sudden rush of… _something_ as he takes in the sight of Steve in front of him. 

At first, he can’t figure out what it is that makes him look different. It’s not the first time he sees Steve all dazed and breathless, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. But then he sees it: the soft light from the bedside lamp catches on the ring on Steve’s hand, still tangled in the sheets. It strikes Tony with an overwhelming force that not only is he Steve’s, Steve is also _his_ , and he will be as long as Tony has anything to say about it.

Tony doesn’t say a word, just moves up to claim Steve’s mouth in a deep, forceful kiss, running his hands up and down Steve’s sides in a possessive gesture. Steve moans into his mouth and kisses back, his hands moving up to Tony’s hips and gripping hard, possibly hard enough to bruise.

It doesn’t last long, though, because Tony needs _more_ , so he breaks the kiss and starts mouthing down Steve’s jaw and neck, stopping to suck a bruise right over his collarbone. He works his way down, leaving marks all over Steve’s chest and stomach, until Steve nudges at his shoulder and says “Tony, get—get up here, come on.”

Tony sits up next to him and lets Steve pull him into his arms and kiss him softly, first on the mouth then on the nose, and it’s so ridiculously sweet that Tony scrunches up his nose, looking at Steve incredulously. Steve is smiling, warm light reflecting in his eyes.

“What was that about?” Steve asks. “Not that I didn’t enjoy it, just--”

“I needed--” Tony shuts his eyes and tightens his grip on Steve’s waist. “I wanted to see, to know. That you’re mine.” 

And okay, this doesn’t make any sense and just sounds stupid, but Steve seems to get it, if the way he pulls Tony even closer is any indication.

“I am yours,” he whispers into Tony’s ear, then pulls away just enough to plant delicate kisses all over Tony’s face, and it’s somehow even more telling and intense than Tony’s frantic marking of Steve’s body before. “I’m not—going—to change—my mind,” Steve says emphatically in between kisses, and it hits a bit too close to home that Tony would like to admit, so he breaks the kiss and looks away, feeling a tiny bit ashamed that Steve has figured out his worry so easily.

Steve puts a hand on the side of Tony’s head and turns it to face him again. “Hey, look at me,” Steve says softly. “Tony do you—are you having second thoughts?”

Tony looks up abruptly, because no, that is _so_ not it, and he has to make sure Steve knows just how much Tony is certain about this. He wraps his arms firmly around Steve’s neck and looks into his eyes, gaze unwavering. “No,” he says. “Never. Steve, I—I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life. I love you,” he says, and kisses Steve hard enough to drive his point across. “You believe me, right? Please tell me you believe me,” he adds, searching Steve’s eyes for any traces of the doubt that was there before.

He sees nothing but warmth and love, and he thinks that Steve understands a lot more than he says. “I believe you,” Steve assures him. ”And I love you, too, and I want to marry you, and you’d better stop fretting out because I might just change my mind,” he adds with a fond smile.

Tony laughs softly. “You wouldn’t,” he says, and for the first time that night he believes it.

“I wouldn’t,” Steve agrees, and kisses him again. One of Steve’s hands moves down between them to circle both of their cocks. Steve jerks them both in a slow but steady rhythm, all the time murmuring soft reassurances against Tony’s lips. 

Finally, Tony buries his face in Steve’s shoulder and comes with a gasp, Steve following him over the edge seconds later.

Steve gets up and brings a damp towel from the bathroom to clean them both up, then tosses it haphazardly on the floor before sliding under the covers and pulling Tony close. Tony wraps his arm around Steve’s waist and snuggles into his chest, feeling safe and warm and at home.

He’ll be lucky if he gets to keep this forever, but right now the soft press of Steve’s lips to his forehead is enough to drive his doubts away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this update took forever! Real life happened, and then my laptop died, so I discovered the joys of writing fanfic with a pencil on actual paper, and typing it up whenever I got the chance to lay my hands on a computer. I'm back to updating now, thanks for sticking with me!
> 
> My characterization of Tony's parents is based only on what we saw in the movies and my own headcanon. If they're in any way OOC, well then - this is an AU after all.

Apparently, when you’re getting married, it’s customary to introduce your fiancé to your parents. Tony would like to dispute that stupid custom. Or Steve, because he was the one to insist on this trip. At this point, however, Tony thinks he would have better luck overthrowing a centuries old tradition than winning an argument with Steve Rogers.

Because Tony is a huge sucker for Steve’s puppy eyes, they now find themselves in a cab driving them from the Los Angeles airport to Tony’s parents’ house, Steve at ease and relaxed, Tony fidgeting nervously.

How is he supposed to break to his parents that he’s getting _married_? They don’t even know Steve and Tony are dating. Well, they do know Tony is gay, so at least that conversation is already behind him. Still, he can very well picture what is going to happen: his mom is going to lecture him about his young age and the responsibility such a serious step brings (even though Tony has been living on his own since he was eighteen, thankyouverymuch), and Howard will serve him his usual spiel about putting career in front of everything and the merits of not getting married until you’re at least forty.

Tony sighs, resigned, and turns his head to look at Steve, who gives him a small, warm smile, and squeezes his hand reassuringly. The sight of Steve’s ringless hand sends pangs of guilt straight into Tony’s heart. He asked Steve to take his ring off as soon as they landed in LA, and removed his own – he wanted to be able to break the news about their engagement gently, and not by shoving matching gold bands right in his parents’ faces. Steve said he understood, and slipped his ring off his finger and into his pocket. Irrationally, it made Tony’s heart clench, and he made a mental note to himself never to let Steve take his ring off again after that visit. 

He hopes Steve understands that the lack of rings means nothing more than just precaution, and not something ridiculous like Tony being ashamed of Steve, because seriously, that’s Steve Rogers. He’s, like, the Holy Grail of sons-in-law, the kind that every parent dreams of.

The ride from the airport is a short one, and they soon find themselves in front of the house Tony grew up in. Steve lets out an impressed whistle, and okay, the house is pretty nice, Tony has never denied that. His parents are pretty wealthy – not filthy stinking rich, perhaps, but enough to afford a house in LA with a pool and more guest bedrooms than they ever had guests, and enough to have paid for the best coaches and choreographers on the West Coast when Tony took up figure skating. Until, of course, he started living on his own dime, moved across the country, hired Fury and Coulson, and never looked back.

“Steve?” Tony prompts as they stand in front of the main door.

“Yeah?”

“Whatever happens in there, promise you’ll still marry me?”

“I think I already did, Tony, I’m pretty much a sure thing by now,” Steve says, grinning. Tony suddenly feels very stupid.

“Alright, alright,” he says, and Steve laughs. “Just making sure. No need to quote _Pretty Woman_ at me, which, by the way, is disturbing on a whole other level.”

“Tony, you’re rambling again,” Steve says, amused. “Let’s just go inside.”

But before either of them can ring the bell, the door flings open and a tiny, dark-haired woman appears on the doorstep. 

“I thought I heard a car!” she exclaims, then takes a step forward and gives Tony a forceful hug, the kind that only moms can manage. “Tony, my baby, hello,” she says softly, and Tony wraps his arms around her, closing his eyes.

Much as he’d like to deny it, even in front of himself, he’s missed her, and he’s maybe a tiny bit glad that they’ve arranged this visit. Not that he’ll say that out loud.

Tony breaks the hug and turns to Steve, who’s watching them with what seems to be a weird mix of pride and longing in his eyes.

“Mom, this is Steve Rogers, my--”

“Yes, your boyfriend!” she interrupts him. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you, sweetheart,” she continues, and wraps a shocked Steve up in a hug, too, and it should look hilarious considering the height difference, but as it is it only causes Tony’s heart to do a backflip in his chest.

“Boyfriend?” Tony manages to choke out when his mother has let go of Steve. “How did you--”

“Oh, please, honey, I figured it out years ago. You really underestimate your fans, they’ll dig up everything. I’ve just been waiting for you to finally bring him home, you make such a wonderful couple!”

Tony is speechless, but he can always count on Steve to know what to say.

“Thank you so much, Mrs Stark,” he says, giving her his widest trademark smile.

“Please, call me Maria,” she corrects him, returning the smile. “Now, why don’t you boys go get settled in and come downstairs for dinner in half an hour?” she suggests, then walks back into the house and leaves them to deal with their bags.

“Your mom’s cooking dinner?” Steve asks. “I thought you’d have a housekeeper or something…”

“We do. For cleaning and laundry and stuff. But mom loves to cook, and doesn’t let anyone else near it, so…”

“Oh, okay. Well, she’s really nice,” Steve offers with a smile.

“Yeah, she is. Wait till you meet my dad, though,” Tony says ominously, and opens the door to let himself and Steve in. 

“Oh, come on. He can’t be that bad,” Steve says, turning his head back to look at Tony as they climb the stairs to Tony’s room.

“Oh really? Wanna bet?”

“Eh, I don’t know. The last bet I made with you worked out rather lousy for me,” Steve teases, and laughs when Tony whacks him upside the head with the hand that is not occupied holding his duffel bag. 

Tony leads Steve into his old bedroom and suddenly feels very self-conscious on behalf of his seventeen-year-old self. The room looks just like he left it years ago – spacious but sparsely furnished, and low on decorations. The only thing that could be considered luxurious is a large bed, now freshly made with crisp, light blue sheets. Apart from that, the room contains only a bookcase, filled mostly with literary classics and a selection of science fiction novels, an empty closet, a dresser, a desk with a chaotic jumble of wires and computer parts strewn across its surface, and a couple of Spider-Man posters taped to the wall above the bed.

“So, um, welcome?” Tony says lamely as Steve walks around the room, taking in the remnants of Tony’s childhood. 

“Spider-Man?” Steve asks, eyebrows raised and mouth twitching. 

“Who did you expect, Captain America?” Tony retorts, and Steve bursts out laughing.

“Will your dad be joining us for dinner?” Steve asks, sitting down gingerly on the bed.

Tony shrugs. “I don’t know. Most likely he’s not even home.”

“When are you going to tell him about us?” Steve inquires. 

“If my mom knows, he does too, and seeing as neither mine nor your skates have been sabotaged yet, he’s obviously cool with it.” 

Or doesn’t care enough to get mad, Tony thinks. 

“No, I meant about the wedding,” Steve clarifies, and Tony feels his stomach lurch. He looks up from the bag he’s unpacking and tries his best pleading look on Steve.

“Tomorrow. Please? I want to try for one relatively peaceful night.”

“Fine,” Steve says shortly, and reaches for his own bag, still sitting down.

Tony walks over to him, quickly. “Hey, what’s the matter?” he asks, taking Steve’s face in his hands and tipping his head up to look at Tony. “Talk to me here, you know I’m emotionally stunted.”

Steve gives him a sad smile. “It’s just… do you really think your parents will hate the idea of you marrying _me_ so much? I mean, your mom seems to like me, so--”

“Stop right there,” Tony says. “First of all, my mom doesn’t like you, she _freaking loves you_. As does everybody who’s ever met you, and as will my father. Are you kidding? You’re the golden boy, the double World Champion, I’m sure he would adopt you in my place in a heartbeat—no, don’t interrupt,” he says, when Steve opens his mouth to say something. “And oh my God, Steve, this is so not about you! I’m not worried about what they will think of you, not even a bit!”

Steve reaches up to pull Tony’s hands away from his face and squeezes them in his own. “Then what?”

“Steve, my father thinks I’m barely equipped to wipe my own ass, let alone do anything significant with my life. And dividing my attention between skating career and marriage? I’m pretty sure for my dad it means I will equally suck at both, even more than I have so far.” 

“Tony, you’re an _Olympic champion_. That has to mean something for him.”

“Yes, and I got a really heartfelt congratulatory text message for that. Maybe when I win the second gold, like him, I’ll earn an email.’

Steve squeezes his hands a little tighter and Tony deflates. “I just—I’m a fucking grown man, okay? And I’ve managed not to fuck up what we have for two years. And when I know I’m going to be scolded and lectured like a preschooler, well then, I know it isn’t going to be pretty.”

“Whatever happens, still getting married, remember?” Steve says, then stands up and presses a firm kiss to Tony’s mouth, and hugs him close for a second. “Now let’s go have dinner with your mom and see if we can get her on our side.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I'm experiencing a huge writer's block as far as this story is concerned. I would not want the ending to be forced, so I'm laying it off for a while and I'm going to work on my other Steve/Tony projects to see if I can get the words to cooperate again. This will eventually be finished, I promise - abandoned WIPs are one of my biggest fandom pet peeves.
> 
> Thank you for bearing with me!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bring to you shameless fluff with a sprinkling of angst, and a possibly OOC Howard - I'm sorry, but I don't think I can write a character who is both an (ex) figure skater _and_ thoroughly mean/evil. Does not compute. Also, I don't know the comic book Howard, just the one in the movies, and he's not exactly _bad_ there. And in Captain America he's plain awesome.
> 
> I'm probably making too many excuses.

The dinner is nice. Or it would be, if Tony weren't sitting on pins and needles the whole time, waiting for Howard to show up and ruin the mood. Listening to Steve and his mother talk enthusiastically about skating (she used to be a choreographer, so she has a lot to say about Steve's latest programs), he keeps glancing in the direction of the front door. He can't even muster enough focus to enjoy the way Steve blushes at Maria's praise of his skating.

Howard never shows up.

After a few failed attempts at dragging Tony into conversation, Maria shoos them both upstairs, blaming Tony's distracted silence on exhaustion. She knows better, though, if her concerned look and the way she squeezes his shoulder in passing is anything to go by.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks once they're in Tony's bedroom, with the same expression his mother had before. Neither of them bothered to switch on the light, but the room is softly lit by the combined glow of street lights and the moon.

"Yeah," Tony scoffs, turning away from Steve and towards the open window. "Nothing out of the ordinary, believe me."

Steve doesn't reply, instead he wraps his arms around Tony from behind and pulls him close against his chest. Tony relaxes immediately, resting his head on Steve's shoulder, and brings his hands up to run them over Steve's forearms in a grateful gesture. He never knows what to say or do when Steve offers him physical affection in that casual, easy manner that Tony was never quite able to master. He used to worry about driving Steve away with his lack of proper reactions, or sufficient reciprocation, but Steve never complained, and kept randomly hugging and kissing him anyway, so Tony figured it was okay. Steve knew him better than anyone, so he must have known how Tony felt even when he was unable to express it.

"Remember when we didn't get along?" Tony breaks the silence, and wow, he must be really tired if he's going _there_.

Steve hums in acknowledgment. He doesn't pull away, so Tony decides it's okay to finish his thought.

"It was because of him. Not that he ever criticized you, no. You were his favorite. Ever since we started competing with each other, he would compare me to you. And guess who always came out on top in those little lectures."

Steve tightens his embrace. "Tony..."

"No, let me finish. I was... so bitter, and angry, and jealous. I never even gave you a chance. And the joke was on me, wasn't it? Because... because he was right. You were better than me. As a skater, and as a person. But I was so pissed at him for liking you better than me that I declared you the enemy from day one, and... " Tony laughs, bitterly. "To think I would miss out on this... on _you_ , because of my stupid issues... Let me tell you, you moving to New York was the happiest fucking coincidence of my life, whatever I might have said in the beginning."

Steve coughs, pointedly, and loosens his grip on Tony to turn him around in his arms and clasp his hands in the small of Tony's back. "About that..." he begins, looking at Tony sheepishly.

"What?" Tony prompts, bracing both his hands on Steve's chest.

"Since we're trading confessions... Well, that was no coincidence."

"Yes, I know. You switched to Fury and Coulson and had to go where they were. I'm just saying--"

"No," Steve interrupts him. "I-- I moved there because of you."

Tony looks at him suspiciously. "Are you secretly a masochist? Because if I remember correctly, our relationship at the time wasn't exactly of the warm and fuzzy kind."

Steve smiles, then moves his hands to Tony's waist and runs them up and down his sides. "Yeah. Except I've had a crush on you since I was twelve."

Tony blinks. How is that even possible? He's been an asshole to Steve even after they became sort-of friends, let alone before. Maybe Steve really has a masochistic streak.

"I'm taking back everything good I ever said about your judgment. Clearly, it's terrible."

Steve smirks and shakes his head, looking... shy? "I know it's ridiculous, okay? I knew you didn't like me, I just... I couldn't help it. You were so brilliant, and so smart, and funny... well, at least until you remembered I was there. But I saw how you were with others, and I fell for that person - the real Tony. And I figured - maybe I could convince you to be my friend, and then you'd like me, and then you'd be with me the way you were with Thor and Pepper and the others."

"And for that, you needed to change coaches?"

"I was thinking about a change anyway! And Fury is a great coach, so why not him? And by that point I had already tried _everything_ , so I thought, maybe if we see each other on a regular basis, something will happen. And I wasn't wrong, was I?"

"No, not about that, but... God, Steve, you were so wrong before, you don't even know."

"Which part was I wrong about?" Steve inquires, frowning. 

"The part where I didn't like you. Don't get me wrong, I _tried_. But you were so... so _you_ , that I couldn't hate you. So I stayed away and convinced myself that I despised you, and... and I almost believed it. Until you showed up for good, and then I was screwed." Tony closes his eyes and fists his hands in the front of Steve's shirt. So much wasted time, and all because Tony is so fucked up. One more thing he has to thank Howard for.

Steve touches their foreheads together. "We're both idiots, aren't we?" he whispers. 

Tony shakes his head slowly. "No. I'm an idiot. A very, very lucky idiot. You're just annoyingly perfect, as always."

Steve leans forward and kisses him, quickly and gently. 

"I'm tired. I'm going to sleep," Tony says when he pulls back, and hopes Steve doesn't read it as anything other than what it is - genuine exhaustion caused by prolonged exposure to Howard Stark's house.

Tony goes to take a shower while Steve unpacks both their bags, and then he burrows himself under blankets, trying to will himself to sleep. He doesn't move when Steve comes back from the bathroom and slides into bed with him.

Steve spoons up behind him, throws one arm over Tony to tangle their fingers together, and presses a gentle kiss to the back of Tony's neck. "I love you, you idiot," he whispers, and Tony smiles to himself.

"Thank you for not giving up on me," Tony whispers when Steve's breath has evened out. 

**

Tony wakes up before Steve, and carefully slides out of his arms. He puts on a t-shirt and some sweats, and pads downstairs in search for coffee. Going through the hallway, he notices that the door to his father's office is ajar, and there's a rustling of papers coming from inside.

"Oh fuck no, it's too early for this," Tony mutters to himself, and bolts towards the kitchen.

After downing two cups of coffee, he decides he'll get in more trouble if he doesn't say hello, so he heads towards the office and knocks hesitantly on the door.

He's expecting silence, or an annoyed invitation at most, but Howard pulls the door open immediately, like he's been waiting for Tony to come around.

"Tony!" Howards greets him, and makes an aborted gesture as if he wanted to go for a hug, but the concept was so unfamiliar he couldn't go through with it. Tony pretends he didn't see that. "I believe congratulations are in order," Howard continues after they both step further inside the office. Tony whips around, and for a second thinks his mother somehow figured out the truth about his engagement. Then he realizes what Howard really meant.

"Oh. Yeah, I got your text. You don't have to, it's not..."

"Oh come on, son, it's Olympic gold. It's huge!"

Tony scoffs. "If it's such a big deal, you should have been there. Or at least called."

"You never pick up," Howard accuses him, and fair enough, that's true.

Tony ignores his remark and goes to sit on the couch, feet tucked under his thighs. Howard takes a place in a desk chair opposite him.

"And I was there. In the audience."

Tony's head snaps up. "What? Why? Why didn't you... why did you even go?" 

"Tony, you're my son. My legacy. I had to go see the most important moment of your career."

Right. And for a second there Tony actually thought it was about something more than just skating, but of course - Howard had to make sure Tony didn't disgrace the Stark name or something.

"Well then, I'm glad I didn't bring shame to our name. Although I did only win because Steve Rogers popped a jump, so I didn't fully deserve the gold, but--"

"Not true. Your short was underscored. For one thing, your quad shouldn't have been downgraded. And your PCS was too low, for this level of difficulty in your choreography."

"Well then, you can call Phil Coulson and congratulate him on creating a golden program. Tell him how proud you are. Now if you excuse me, I need to eat some breakfast."

Tony gets up and heads towards the door.

"Tony," Howard says quietly from where he is still sitting in his chair, and Tony stops dead in his tracks. He doesn't turn around, expecting a burst of anger and a scolding for being rude.  
"I hope you know I'm very proud of you. I always was, ever since you first decided to put on skates. I knew you'd be something special."

"I only have half your medals," Tony says, dryly, but something clenches in his chest. He takes a deep breath, trying to make it go away.

"And twice my talent," Howard says. "You're getting better every year, Tony. I'm sure this is not the last gold you're going to win, and you know I never say things I don't mean."

"You really don't," Tony agrees. "I think this is the most praise I got from you since... huh, ever. Thank you, dad, that must have been painful."

Howard gets up abruptly and walks over to him, stopping short of touching Tony on the shoulder.

"Tony, that's-- okay, I deserved that. I know our relationship hasn't always been... the easiest, but I really don't want you to think I'm not proud of you. I am. That moment when I saw you on the podium... Tony, that was a better feeling than receiving both my own medals combined. All I wanted to do was come up to you and hug you."

"You could have," Tony mutters in the direction of the carpet. "I'm, uh-- I guess I haven't been the easiest son to have, either," Tony says, and knows it's the closest to _I'm sorry_ that either of them can muster for now. It's still not good enough, but it's a start.

Howard huffs out a laugh. "Then we can both work on that, can't we?"

"Yeah. Now, about that breakfast--"

"Wait a second," Howard interrupts him. "You and Steve Rogers."

"What about us?"

"Your mother seemed to be under the impression that you were dating. And now he's here with you..."

"Yes, well, we were dating."

"You're not anymore?" Howard asks with a confused frown.

"Not...exactly," Tony says, and decides to just go for it, He's not sure if he'll be able to gather the strength for another serious conversation with his father this weekend, so he might as well get it over with now. "We're getting married."

"Oh," Howard says, looking a little uncertain. "Okay, I only have one question."

"Yeah?"

"Am I invited to the wedding?"

Tony looks at him incredulously, then bursts out laughing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially I wanted to torture the boys for a little longer, but I really don't feel up to writing anything angsty right now, so it's 6 chapters instead of 8, and the last one is basically a short and shameless fluff fest to wrap up the story.
> 
> I'd like to thank anyone who commented on, kudo'ed, and/or enjoyed this fic. You're all fantastic <3

Howard finds Tony on his wedding day, standing in front of a mirror in his childhood bedroom and struggling with his bow tie.

"Got a minute?" Howard asks, knocking lightly on the door frame. Tony huffs in frustration and gives up on the tie. The open-collar look is much cooler anyway.

"Yeah, I'm not going to win with this, so might as well spare a moment."

Howard smirks and puts the binder he's been holding on the dresser. He takes the bow tie from Tony and proceeds to tie it neatly around Tony's collar. 

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Tony explains. "I never had any problems with that. This bow tie must be different, or..."

"Or your hands are shaking because you're nervous as hell," Howard interrupts, then takes a step back. "There," he says, admiring his work.

"Thanks," Tony says with a small smile. His and his father's relationship seemed to be moving slowly forward, one step at a time, but inevitably changing for the better. They almost never fight anymore, and if they do, it's without painful verbal jabs or underlying resentment. Tony can see the effort Howard has been putting into making things between them better, and he really appreciates it. He entirely blames Steve for making Tony a better person against his will. "So, what did you want before?"

"Oh," Howard says, and turns to pick up his binder. "I got you a wedding gift," he says, handing Tony the binder with a smile that Tony would call uncertain if it weren't on Howard Stark's face. 

"You know you didn't have to do that, I don't-- are you serious?" Tony exclaims, opening the binder. Inside, there's paperwork for a newly opened foundation, created in Tony's name. He looks up at Howard incredulously.

"I knew you wouldn't want anything for yourself from me," Howard says, shrugging. "So I thought that this might make you happy. It's for supporting young, talented skaters who can't afford equipment, rink time, and coaching teams on their own."

Tony is speechless for a while, long enough that Howard starts to fidget. "Is that--" he begins.

"Oh, it's perfect," Tony answers with a real smile. "I can already see Steve's face, he'll love it. And... it's really fantastic. A great gift. Thank you," Tony says, and moves to give Howard a one-armed hug, his other hand still holding the binder.

He'll blame his sentimentality on the fact that this is his wedding day, and he's marrying the sappiest man on this side of the Atlantic.

After a brief moment, Howard hugs him back. When he pulls away, his eyes look suspiciously shiny. "Alright, son, now go get married, I'll be out of your hair," he says.

Before he can walk out the door, Tony stops him on an impulse. "Wait!"

Howard turns around.

"I... don't really have a best man," Tony says. "Would you, uh, want that job?"

Howard's face lights up in a smile Tony hasn't seen in years. 

**

"Ready?" Steve asks, squeezing Tony's hand as they are about to walk down the aisle together.

"I'm so happy I lost that bet," Tony replies. Steve laughs, and raises their joined hands so he can kiss Tony's knuckles.

**

"What was that with your dad as the last minute best man?" Steve asks during their first dance as a married couple. 

"Oh, you know," Tony smirks. "Clint refused to be my maid of honor, so I had to turn to plan B."

Steve ducks his head and laughs into Tony's shoulder. The dance floor has filled with other couples by now, so they are not in the absolute centre of attention anymore, but Steve still seems to be stubbornly clinging to his stupid sense of decorum.

"What I meant was, are you and your dad okay?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Tony replies. "Better than ever, anyway. Wait till you see what he got me - us - as a wedding gift."

"I already know," Steve says. He smiles when Tony raises one eyebrow at him. "He consulted me before he finalized anything. He wanted to make sure he wouldn't piss you off by accident," Steve explains. "He's really trying, you know," he adds.

"I know, I know," Tony says. "I'm trying, too. And I have to say he's making it easier than I expected."

Steve tightens his embrace around Tony. "I'm not surprised. You're not as hard to love as you think you are."

"You think so? Let's wait a few years, then."

Steve raises one hand to Tony's cheek and presses a gentle kiss against his lips. "I'm pretty sure that in a few years I'm going to love you just as much as I do now, if not more."

"Promise?"

Steve raises his ringed hand into the glimmering light of the ballroom. "I kinda promised a couple of hours ago, didn't I?" he says, and kisses Tony again.

Tony has honestly never been more at peace than he is now. He feels like every single element of his life has somehow fallen into place, making the sorry mess that his life was before Steve everything Tony has ever wanted: his career is in the best place since its beginning, he has married the love of his life, and his family is finally becoming what he has dreamed of since he was a child. 

"No regrets?" Steve asks when the dance ends and they're walking back to their table.

"Nu-uh," Tony replies. "You're not getting out of this now, Rogers."

Steve grins. "Wouldn't dream of it."

 

FIN


End file.
